HOW a Good Marriage Can Nudge an Unwary Man
in the Direction of Civility

Henry Edward Fool

You know, one Spring day my very dear wife and I were walking
along in Golden Gate Park—knowing us, we probably had a brace
of dogs straining on ahead—and I was trying to explain to her the
phenomenon that is Duck Baker (whose artistry can not be
explained, only experienced). I’d started out by telling her that
Duck was a finger-picker.

My wife, who is French and therefore properly educated, and at a
level far above such stuff, asked sweetly, “What is finger-picking?”

At that very moment (at that precise moment) we came around the
corner and there before us, in the meadow below, was a large
herd of three or four hundred finger-pickers. They were all
gathered ‘round in clusters of six or seven and all flailing away in
giddy syncopation. The timing could not have been better.
“THAT,” I said with considerable aplomb, “is finger-picking.”

When Sylvie and I are together there is often a cleverness to Life.

I don’t know what was at play there, but of course I wish more of
Life were like that for everybody.